


I Will Never Be Young Again

by gayhoneyboob



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Armando Salazar - Freeform, Backstory, Bilingual Character(s), Capitán Salazar, Captain Jack Sparrow - Freeform, Dead Men Tell No Tales - Freeform, Gay Male Character, Lesaro gets a first name, M/M, María Silenciosa, POTC - Freeform, Pre-Movies, Romance, Salazar - Freeform, Silent Mary, Spanish, Spanish Translation, and also darker, it will get better, mentions of gore in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-06 09:10:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11033121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayhoneyboob/pseuds/gayhoneyboob
Summary: Armando Salazar wasn't always known as 'El Matador Del Mar'. He had a childhood too, with lost loves, hope and betrayal, that shaped his feelings towards pirates. These are the reasons why so many died at the hands of the undead captain of the Silent Mary.Some Spanish dialogue with translations included.





	1. Que La Vida Iba En Serio

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nataliaromanovas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nataliaromanovas/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to nataliaromanovas for being my beta!
> 
> Translations of the Spanish speech at the end of each chapter.

The sun was setting. It was suspended low in the sky, its blazing edge only just beginning to kiss the horizon. The ocean's waves were dyed a deep shade of orange and shimmering gold by the last rays of sunlight, almost too bright to lay one's eyes upon. All that could be heard was the shrill cry of seagulls overhead and the rustle of waves lapping against the flaxen sand.

Suddenly, the clockwork ebbing and flowing of the tide was disturbed by a stone, smooth and flat, splashing onto its surface; it bounced exactly three times before sinking to the sandy depths of the sea. Another stone soon followed. Then another, then another. They were being thrown by a teenage boy, no older than fifteen, wearing a scruffy blazer over a rumpled shirt, his long, dark hair tied back in a careless ponytail. Though his actions and expression conveyed boredom, there was a spark in his eyes that whispered of liveliness, adventure, and aspirations for a future he could only distantly dream of. He stood and thrust his calloused hands into his pockets, and kicked one final pebble into the ocean. It hit the water with a brief plash before joining its sedimentary brethren under the water's surface.

The boy sighed, closing his eyes as the sea breeze breathed across his face. Each deep breath filled his lungs with the salty ocean air, his body rejuvenating itself under the dying rays of sunlight. When he eventually opened his eyes the sun had slipped behind the ocean and the evening sky was stained rich shades of plum and scarlet.

He turned and walked silently down the beach, his bare feet making no sound on the warm sand as he began the trek home. As he walked, he turned a coin over and over between his fingers in his pocket, the cool metal tingling against his sun-baked fingers, each ridge and indent on its surface bringing intrigue and secrecy. The boy took the coin out and stopped walking to look at it. In the dusk light, its surface glinted with mystery, the undeniable engraving of a skull almost alive. He turned the coin to look at the inscription on the back.

"No todo el tesoro es plata y oro," he murmured under his breath. A smile curved his lips up as he was filled with giddy excitement at the idea of piracy, treasure and adventure, but most of all, freedom. At home, he felt suffocated. He couldn't wait to get out and make a life for himself outside of his mundane living as of that moment, standing on the beach, merely pondering what he could do. Daydreaming over, he stuffed the coin back into his pocket and continued his journey home.

An hour later, once the sky had faded into indigo, he stepped onto the porch of his home. He brushed the sand off his feet and tugged his blazer straight, buttoning up his shirt fully and taking his hair out of its messy ponytail. As he tried to re-tie it more neatly, the strip of leather he used to tie it snapped, and he cursed, but there was nothing he could do. He stuffed the leather in his pocket with the coin and opened the back to the house, stepping into the musty warmth of the kitchen.

As soon as the door shut behind him, the feeling of suffocation returned. It had only started once his father had died, leading his mother to remarry, and her new husband brought this sensation everywhere with him. The boy didn't even have time to shout a greeting to his mother when another shout cut across the house's stuffy silence.

"Salazar!"

The boy, Salazar, froze in the doorway. He'd hoped that by now, his step-father would either be too drunk or tired to realize his late return, but to no avail. The walls shook as the older man stormed into the kitchen, his disheveled appearance showing his rage, the smell of drink on his breath, the stench of sweat clinging to his unshaven face and unwashed clothing.

"Armando Salazar!" he bellowed, lips curled in a snarl. "Cada vez. ¡Cada vez! ¡Llegaste tarde otra vez!"

Salazar's step-father advanced, the near-empty bottle of alcohol in his hand sloshing with his uncoordinated movements.

"¿Recuerdas lo que dije la última vez?" he said more than asked, his snarl becoming a sneer. "No tendrás ninguna comida mañana, o el día después de eso. ¡Eso es lo que mereces!"

Salazar looked at the far wall, used to such abuse being hurled at him. He stopped himself from flinching as the bottle was thrown and smashed against the wall beside his head. He didn't even flinch as he felt tiny shards of glass embedding themselves into the skin of his face and neck.

Light footsteps became audible before Salazar's mother came hurrying into the room.

"¿Que fue ese sonido?" she asked anxiously, her brown eyes widening as she saw the splash of alcohol on the wall and the shattered glass across the floor. "¿Sebastián, que pasó?"

"Maite, limpia esa porquería," Sebastián ordered, ignoring her question.

He stomped from the room and Maite breathed out shakily. She quickly made her way across the room to her son, her worry deepening as she saw the cuts across his cheek and forehead, blood trickling from each small wound, glints of glass visible under his skin.

"Mi hijo," she murmured, taking his arm and leading him around the mess to sit at the kitchen table. She took a bucket of water she used to clean with and dipped a cloth in it, kneeling before her son and dabbing gently at his face. The water in the bucket soon had streaks of red running through it, the white cloth tinted pink. Once the blood was cleared, Maite used her fingernails to gently prise the glass from her son's skin.

As she continued, Salazar studied his mother's face. She had dark, doe-like brown eyes and wavy hair the same pale brown color as the dust on the porch outside. Sebastián's eyes were a cold green, a world apart from Salazar's own pale brown eyes. He knew he got them from his real father. That, he was proud of, but he hated that he shared his dark brown hair with both his real father and his step-father. He didn't want to share any similarity with Sebastián.

"Madre," Salazar said softly. Maite looked at him with a smile, but the sadness showed in her eyes.

"¿Sí, Armando?"

"¿Por qué tuviste que casarte?"

Maite looked down and clutched the washcloth tightly in her worn, callused hands. She bit her lip and looked at her son with genuine worry and misery.

"No puedo explicar mi decisión," she said quietly. "Necesité un hombre para protegerme."

"Pero me tienes," Salazar retorted, anger biting the edges of his words. He couldn't help but think his mother was selfish, marrying a man who hated him when they were fine on their own.

"Como dije," Maite said. "No puedo explicar. Se entenderás cuando seas mayor."

Salazar looked away bitterly, too angry to realize that she was the one being rational. He didn't even look at his mother as she put away the bucket, kissed his cheek and left the room. That night, he went to bed angry, still resentful of his mother even as an overwhelming sadness washed over him. He let the darkness steal him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No todo el tesoro es plata y oro  
> = Not all treasure is silver and gold
> 
> Cada vez. ¡Cada vez! ¡Llegaste tarde otra vez!  
> = Every time. Every time! You're late again!
> 
> ¿Recuerdas lo que dije la última vez? No tendrás ninguna comida mañana, o el día después de eso. ¡Eso es lo que mereces!  
> = Remember what I said last time? You wont have any food tomorrow, or the day after that. That's what you deserve!
> 
> ¿Que fue ese sonido? ¿Sebastián, que pasó?  
> = What was that sound? Sebastián, what happened?
> 
> Maite, limpia esa porquería.  
> = Maite, clean that mess.
> 
> Mi hijo  
> = My son
> 
> Madre  
> = Mother
> 
> ¿Por qué tuviste que casarte?  
> = Why did you have to get married?
> 
> No puedo explicar mi decisión. Necesité un hombre para protegerme.  
> = I can't explain my decision. I needed a man to protect me.
> 
> Pero me tienes  
> = But you have me
> 
> Como dije. No puedo explicarlo. Se entenderás cuando seas mayor.  
> = Like I said. I can't explain it. You'll understand when you're older.
> 
> If there are any mistakes (whether Spanish or English), please let me know in the comments!


	2. Uno Lo Empieza A Comprender Más Tarde

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations for the Spanish and Portuguese at the end.

Salazar opened his eyes to darkness. The sun wasn't up yet, and the air was still. His mattress was flat and hard under his aching body, the scratchy blanket over him irritating the cuts on his skin. He threw it to the floor and got to his feet, stretching so hard he felt every joint pop. The lack of movement within the house told him that nobody else was awake yet. Silently, Salazar opened his bedroom door and crept to his mother and Sebastián's bedroom, looking through the open door. Maite was curled up on her side, Sebastián was passed out drunk on his back, mouth hanging open. Salazar walked into the room and leaned over him.

"Buenos días, cabrón," he whispered, and spat into his step-father's open mouth. Sebastián was too drunk to awaken and Salazar smirked, leaving the room feeling pleased with himself. He entered the kitchen and leaned against the wall, relishing the feeling of cool stone against his back, having not noticed how sweaty he was. He knew he'd had an intense dream, but couldn't remember what it was about. He was too tired to care. The soft lapping of distant waves caught his attention and he felt a pull in his chest as the desire to go to the beach swept through his body. His feet were carrying him to the door before he could even think about the consequences of Sebastián finding out he left to go to the beach again. For Sebastián, sitting to watch the waves was 'para las mujeres', and as a male Salazar should have been pulling his weight in the market or as a builder. But those things didn't excite Salazar the way the ocean did. Seeing ships in the distance got his pulse racing far faster than the prospect of selling fish or laying bricks.

Salazar closed the door as quiet as he could behind him, the shimmering of the shutters the only proof that he'd even moved the door. The stone of the porch was ice cold underfoot as he ran across it, sighing with bliss as the stone turned to sand, his feet sinking into the golden dunes as he raced down the beach, laughing breathlessly with elation. When he ran on the beach he felt truly free. He has just reached the entrance to his favorite cove when something caught his eye and he stopped dead, his feet skidding in the sand as he fought to stay upright. Squinting, he could just make out the silhouette of a person sitting cross-legged on the sand, staring out across the ocean.

Salazar didn't know what to do. He had never seen anyone in this spot of beach before. The person hadn't seen him yet, so absorbed in the waves were they, and a mixture of curiosity and anger overcame Salazar - he was jealous they'd taken his spot, but at the same time he wanted to know who they were and why he'd never seen them before. He walked quietly up the beach, ducking under the entrance to the cove, hiding in the shadows to watch the person on the beach. Closer up, it was clear that they were about his age, if a little older, and they were male. Salazar's heart thumped in his chest.

"¿Quién es usted?" he whispered to himself, his curiosity piqued, and he couldn't resist moving a little closer. However, so entranced was he in watching the other boy, his foot hit a rock and it clattered against the side of the cove. The sound echoed and the boy on the beach whipped around, leaping to his feet and running for the cove's exit, pushing past Salazar hard enough to knock him over and sprinting out of sight.

"¡Pendejo!" Salazar shouted after him, cursing more under his breath when he saw the state of his shoulder. His shirt was in tatters, torn to shreds by the sharp side of the coral-laced cove wall, and blood was streaming from a deep graze. The deep red stains on the white material were going to be all too visible to Sebastián. Wet sand kicked up by the mystery boy was splattered all over his slacks, adding to the castigation he was sure he was going to receive.

"Mierda," Salazar muttered angrily, blaming all of his frustration on the other boy, yet curiosity still stirred within him. He wanted to know who he was and why he had invaded his personal refuge.

By that point, Salazar's desire to sit on the beach had dissipated along with the dusk. The sun was beginning to rise over the eastern horizon, casting weak rays across the beach, illuminating the tide and turning the blue water a glimmering gold. He sighed wearily and began the long walk home, spending much of the time staring at the footprints in the sand and taking much longer than usual. By the time he reached his porch, the sun was fully up and Sebastián was standing in front of the door, an empty bottle in his hand. Salazar didn't need to be close to him to know he was already drunk. He stopped in the sand just before the porch and stared defiantly at Sebastián.

"¿Que estás haciendo? ¿Has sido en la playa otra vez?" Sebastián demanded, stepping forwards ominously. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice slurring. Salazar didn't grace him with a reply. He watched as the door opened to reveal his mother in her nightdress, looking tired and nervous.

"Salazar," she called. When he didn't reply, she said, "Sebastián. ¿Que está pasando?"

"Y tu camisa," Sebastián continued, ignoring her. "¿Es esa sangre?"

The hostility between them was palpable. The air was thick with restrained anger on Salazar's part and drink-fueled fury on Sebastián's. Maite hovered anxiously in the doorway.

Sebastián stepped closer and opened his mouth to speak again.

"Tú-"

"¡Cállate!" Salazar blurted. He felt a thrill run through him when rage crossed Sebastián's face.

"¿Qué dijiste?" Sebastián said, his voice quiet with disbelief and shaking with rage. "¿Osarías hablarme en esa manera?"

He marched across the porch and grabbed Salazar by the throat, pushing him to the floor and pressing a forearm to his throat. Salazar choked for air as Sebastián leaned in close. Maite cried out in horror and clutched her hands before her face, shaking with fear, unable to help.

"Hijo de puta," Sebastián spat. "Hace muchos años, debería haberte matado."

He pressed his arm down harder and Salazar gasped, unable to draw breath as his windpipe was steadily crushed, his vision blurring and going black at the edges, lungs screaming. Soon all he could see was the rage-filled face of his step-father, his green eyes narrowed with hatred, his teeth bared in a snarl. Then the face disappeared from his vision and he could breathe again, inhaling deep breaths of the sea air as he rolled over in the sand. He didn't have time to catch his breath before a hand grabbed his and a voice shouted,

"Vamos!"

Salazar found himself being dragged to his feet and across the beach, back over his own footprints to the cove. By the time they reached it, Sebastian's shouts had faded and now all that was audible was the splashing of waves and the ragged breathing of the two boys.

"Gracias," Salazar said breathlessly, bent double, hugging a stitch in his side. He looked up to see his savior and was shocked to see it was the boy from the cove earlier. He'd only caught a glimpse of his face then, but he was sure it was the same person.

The boy looked seventeen, maybe eighteen, with uneven stubble growing on his jaw and messy brown curls atop his head. His dark brown eyes were watching Salazar intently.

"Fala Português?" the boy asked.

Though Salazar had never known somebody Portuguese before, he knew just from hearing those two words that the boy before him was from Portugal. The problem was, he spoke no Portuguese.

"No hablo el portugués," he said. "Mi idioma es similar, pero no es lo mismo. No te entiendo."

The Portuguese boy frowned and ran a hand through his tousled hair.

"Não percebo," he responded apologetically. "Fala inglês? Do you speak English?"

"Un poco," Salazar replied uncertainly, knowing full well that he was learning English but it was nowhere near developed enough to hold an in-depth conversation with another non-native language English speaker.

"Good," the boy said, flashing Salazar a warm smile. "I am Valerio. And you?"

"I am called Armando Salazar," Salazar answered, worried about his incomplete English but glad he could communicate with Valerio. "Thank you for, uh, saving me."

"The man I saved you from. Was he your father?"

"He is my..." Salazar searched for the English term. "Mi padrastro."

Valerio met his gaze blankly. Salazar gestured wildly as he said,

"My father died and my mother married again to him."

"He is your step-father!" Valerio clicked his fingers as he realized. Salazar nodded with a frown.

"I hate him," he said viciously. "He has ruined my life."

As the anger came flooding back, so did the pain. Salazar became acutely aware of the throbbing of his bruised throat and the stinging of sand embedded into the open wound on his shoulder blade. He reached round to touch the wound and his fingertips came away bloody.

"Merda," Valerio gasped. "Did I do that? Last night?"

He circled the younger boy and looked with horror at the shredded, sandy flesh. He lightly touched the skin beside the injury, pulling his hand back sharply as Salazar winced.

"I'm so sorry," he said. Salazar turned to face him and Valerio's eyes widened further when he saw the series of cuts across his cheek and forehead. He reached up as if automatically, as he had done with the shoulder graze, his fingertips ghosting across Salazar's skin and causing a shiver to go down his spine.

"It was not you," Salazar said and Valerio audibly sagged with relief. "It was my step-father. Sebastián. He hates me."

"He doesn't know how lucky he is," Valerio murmured, still staring at the tiny cuts.

That was when Salazar felt something stirring in the pit of his stomach, something he had never felt before. Standing there, looking at the genuine worry on Valerio's face, with none of the exhaustion and defeat in Maite's eyes, nor the rage or hatred in Sebastián's, he felt hope. He felt butterflies fluttering inside him, a tingling warmth spreading from his fingertips and up his body, giving him both a hot flush and icy cold chills. His skin felt like it was on fire where Valerio had touched him. The internal turmoil came to a peak when he realized how forbidden these feelings were, and how he was sure he could never act on them unless he wanted to disgust Valerio.

Little did he know, Valerio was feeling the exact same way. His own body was alive with electricity shooting through him, ricocheting off his insides and sending lightning bolts up behind his eyes, stars bursting in his vision. He'd never felt so alive around someone who was, essentially, a stranger. But he could never carry out his true desires in the society he lived in; already unwelcome for being Portuguese, open displays of affection for another male were strictly forbidden.

They stood there for the longest of moments, feeling like an hour to both but really only a few seconds, just staring at one another. Then Valerio began to laugh softly; a chuckle devolving into raucous gales of laughter, his hand on Salazar's uninjured shoulder to hold himself upright. Salazar, surprised by the sudden outburst of emotion, didn't react at first, but Valerio's laughter was infectious. Soon, both boys were laughing, their adrenaline rush catching up to them and ending in lightheaded, giddy joy. The peals of laughter eventually faded and Valerio breathed deeply, his gaze dragging up Salazar's whole body with a sort of hunger, but at the same time with restraint. Both knew of their own feelings, yet were oblivious to those of the other.

There, in the secret cove, a silent pact came to be between them. A bond deeper than either boy had ever shared before had formed in that moment, the looks in their eyes enough to ensure it was mutual. And, as the sun rose higher in the sky, they shared a tight hug, the whispering of the wind and the waves carrying only the mere idea of where their relationship was going to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Buenos días, cabrón  
> = Good morning, asshole
> 
> ¿Quién es usted?  
> = Who are you?
> 
> ¡Pendejo!  
> = Asshole!
> 
> Mierda  
> = Shit
> 
> ¿Que estás haciendo? ¿Has sido en la playa otra vez?  
> = What are you doing? Have you been to the beach again?
> 
> ¿Que está pasando?  
> = What's happening?
> 
> Y tu camisa. ¿Es esa sangre?  
> = And your shirt. Is that blood?
> 
> ¡Cállate!  
> = Shut up!
> 
> ¿Qué dijiste? ¿Osarías hablarme en esa manera?  
> = What did you say? You would dare talk to me that way?
> 
> Hijo de puta. Hace muchos años, debería haberte matado  
> = Son of a bitch. I should have killed you years ago
> 
> Vamos!  
> = Come on!
> 
> Fala Português?  
> = Do you speak Portuguese?
> 
> No hablo el portugués. Mi idioma es similar, pero no es lo mismo. No te entiendo.  
> = I don't speak Portuguese. My language is similar, but it isn't the same. I don't understand you.
> 
> Não percebo. Fala inglês?  
> = I don't understand. Do you speak English?
> 
> Un poco  
> = A little
> 
> Merda  
> = Shit
> 
> If there are any mistakes (whether Spanish or English), please let me know in the comments!


	3. Como Todos Los Jóvenes Yo Vine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations of the Spanish at the end.

Across the next few weeks, Salazar and Valerio met at the cove at every chance they got. With Sebastián often barring Salazar from leaving the house, and Valerio busy working to provide for his family, their meetings got later and less frequent until it was a blessing to come across the other in the dead of night. Both spent many a lonely night sitting in the sand under the moonlight, waiting and hoping, only to retreat home before the sun emerged from behind the distant mountains. When they were together, however, it was like magic - they danced in the sand and swam in the ocean, the pearlescent moonlight sapping the color from their bodies but leaving their souls saturated with happiness. The sand was white, the water was black, and the two boys were the gray living between the two. After they'd worn themselves out, they would lie side by side, feeling the other's body heat like an invisible embrace, staring up at the twinkling stars. Valerio taught Salazar about the stars; pointing out the Carina constellation and more, while Salazar taught Valerio his native tongue of Spanish. After a few months, Valerio was not only nearly fluent in Spanish, but he was fluent in reading the boy he so yearned for, as was Salazar. The attraction between them was tangible and yet, sensibly or shyly, they kept their feelings a secret and acted as mere close friends. Neither could deny, however, the desire to do more than just lie side by side, their shoulders pressed snugly together, fingers finding the other's and interlacing in a tight grasp.

Valerio's eighteenth birthday came and went. On that day, he had arrived to the cove to find it decorated with shells and a solitary lantern, casting flickering black shadows across the golden sand as they celebrated with a bottle of wine and a loaf of bread Salazar had baked himself. It had been good, sitting under the stars, sipping from the bottle and sharing the still-warm bread.

Now Salazar's sixteenth birthday was fast approaching. Sebastián was as insufferable as ever at home, but nothing was going to take the spring from Salazar's step. His stepfather soon became cynical of his continuous jovial outlook. One day, he stopped him in the kitchen and cornered him.

"Pareces muy contento recientemente," Sebastián said, his voice thick with suspicion. "¿Por qué?"

"Es casi mi cumpleaños," Salazar lied. "Eso es emocionante para mí."

Though he didn't seem fully convinced, Sebastián didn't care enough to press the matter, and so he left Salazar alone, at least for a while.

On the night of his birthday, Salazar snuck out of the house and found himself running as fast as his legs could carry him down the beach. Before he'd even reached the cove a figure came flying from the darkness and grabbed him in a tight hug, sending them both slamming to the ground and tumbling into the sea. The two boys broke apart and Salazar stumbled to his feet, soaking wet and coated in wet sand but filled with intense joy. His smile faded when he saw the solemn expression on Valerio's face.

"Qué- I mean, what's wrong?" he asked anxiously. His English had improved around Valerio.

"See for yourself," Valerio responded with a touch of sadness to his voice, pointing at the cove.

Salazar approached the cove and felt his heart sink as it became clear there had been some sort of collapse and the entrance - the only entrance and exit - was now firmly blocked by debris.

"What do we do?" Valerio asked, appearing at his side.

"Let's go to my home," Salazar suggested. He said it without even thinking, but repeated it more firmly when he saw the shock on Valerio's face.

"Are you sure?" Valerio asked, unsure if Salazar was thinking straight or whether he was just too excited. "We can always stay here."

"It's okay," Salazar said quickly. "Come on. ¡Vámonos!"

They took off across the shore, kicking up glittering sand and trying to muffle their laughter, silent by the time they reached the porch. Salazar pressed a cautious ear to the door, listening, before carefully opening the door and slipping into the house. Valerio followed, barely able to contain his excitement.

The door shut behind him and they were enveloped by the warm silence of the house. Their bare feet padded across the stone floor, the pair creeping into Salazar's bedroom and closing the door tightly behind them. Valerio sat on the edge of the bed and looked around. The walls were decorated with etchings of the sea, both scratched into the stone and drawn on in colored chalk. The room felt alive, unlike the rest of the house. Valerio looked up at Salazar's expectant face.

"I love it in here," he whispered. "It's beautiful."

Salazar sat beside him, a smile on his lips. He'd never felt so rebellious - Sebastián had never allowed him to take anyone into his room alone, let alone another male - yet here he was.

"Cumpleaños feliz," Valerio murmured, shifting closer to the younger boy.

"Did you get me a present?" Salazar couldn't help asking, his excitement bubbling over.

"Yes," Valerio replied simply. "Close your eyes."

Salazar did as he was told, his fingers twitching with anticipation. Then he felt something warm press against his lips. His eyes shot open to see Valerio's face directly before him, his brown eyes closed, his soft lips pressing against his own. Salazar didn't know how to react. Having never kissed before, he was not practiced in it, and so he sat as still as a stone. Valerio pulled away, concern on his features.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I thought you... I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Salazar said reassuringly, placing his hand on Valerio's. "I am the one who is sorry. I'm not good at kissing."

"We can always change that," Valerio retorted, his confidence restored, and he leaned in for another kiss. Ready this time, Salazar leaned in and closed his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy it. He had never imagined kissing could be so innocent yet so risqué, his body tingling with excitement. Where his lips met Valerio's, they prickled with heat, already yearning for more. The kiss deepened and Valerio placed a hand on Salazar's knee, sliding it up his thigh, causing him to gasp.

"Despacito," he breathed and Valerio blinked his affirmation. The hand slid around to Salazar's lower back, Valerio's other hand snaking around his neck, and he pulled him closer. They finally broke apart, both breathless and dizzy from euphoria.

The bliss quickly became horror as the sound of footsteps began to approach Salazar's bedroom door.

"¡Rápido! ¡La ventana!" Salazar hissed, practically pushing Valerio out of the window, throwing himself under the covers and closing his eyes. No sooner had he done so the door flew open to reveal Sebastián, anger flashing in his eyes.

"¿Quién está aquí?" he demanded. When Salazar didn't reply, he roughly shook him and shouted, "¡Contéstame!"

"Nadie," Salazar responded coolly, meeting Sebastián's belligerent gaze unflinchingly, staring him down. "Nadie está aquí."

"No confío en tú," Sebastián said eventually. "Te estoy vigilando."

Salazar returned his stepfather's suspicion with practiced scorn, holding the expression until Sebastián turned and slammed the door behind him, his footsteps fading to his own room. Salazar let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and ran to the window. Valerio was crouching silently under the windowsill, his shirt a little dirty but otherwise unharmed. He grinned up at Salazar and stood, now level with the window.

"I think it's best we say goodnight," he whispered.

"Agreed," Salazar said with a smile, leaning out of the window to give Valerio one last chaste kiss on the lips before watching him slip away into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pareces muy contento recientemente. ¿Por qué?  
> = You seem very happy lately. Why?
> 
> Es casi mi cumpleaños. Eso es emocionante para mí.  
> = It's almost my birthday. That's exciting for me.
> 
> ¡Vámonos!  
> = Let's go!
> 
> Cumpleaños feliz  
> = Happy birthday
> 
> Despacito  
> = Slowly
> 
> Rápido! ¡La ventana!  
> = Quickly! The window!
> 
> ¿Quién está aquí?  
> = Who's here?
> 
> ¡Contéstame!  
> = Answer me!
> 
> Nadie. Nadie está aquí.  
> = Nobody. Nobody is here.
> 
> No confío en tú. Te estoy vigilando.  
> = I don't trust you. I'm watching you. 
> 
> If there are any mistakes (whether Spanish or English), please let me know in the comments!


	4. A Llevarme La Vida Por Delante

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations for the Spanish and Portuguese at the end.

Even as it blossomed into something bigger, Salazar and Valerio were forced to keep their relationship a secret. Over time, they managed to clear the entrance to the cove and soon it was their own private refuge again; a spot where they went to share soft kisses and whisper sweet nothings. When they were together in the cove it was like the world around them ceased to exist, allowing them to act as they wanted in their shared safe house.

At home, however, life became more difficult. For Valerio, not only were his parents beginning to suspect his nightly outings, but so were his siblings. He could barely slip out without having to bribe a brother or sister with the promise of fresh fruit to ensure their silence. His parents were luckily too preoccupied with their own problems to press him for answers. For Salazar, he found himself unable to leave most nights; Sebastián had taken to sitting in the kitchen in the twilight hours, locking the back door tight and drinking himself into a stupor. Only then could Salazar risk climbing out of his bedroom window, avoiding the back door at all costs. It was difficult, but it was worth it. Every second they spent together was like they were finally living, while every second apart was spent yearning for the other's company. For Salazar, Valerio was his ocean, pulling him irresistibly closer to an unknown destination. But, as always happens with too much excitement, they got careless.

Even after the close call on Salazar's sixteenth birthday, when his seventeenth birthday came around, he couldn't resist bringing Valerio back to his house again. They met on the beach when the moon was at the highest point in the sky, embracing tightly under the pure white light. They lay side by side on the shore, the surf kissing up to their ankles, hands gripped tightly together. Salazar's hair was longer now, his brown locks tickling Valerio's neck and making him smile.

"Let's go to my room," he whispered, leaning in close. Though he couldn't stop himself from smiling, Valerio also felt a touch of worry. He sat up and caught Salazar in a brief hug, before pulling away.

"But what about Sebastián?" he asked, holding Salazar at arm's length. "If he catches us-"

"He won't," Salazar insisted. "If we're silent, he'll be too drunk by the time we get back. I promise," he added when Valerio still looked dubious. They shared a nervous smile and it was clear that Salazar had won the debate.

Without another word, the two set off down the beach, Valerio laughing when his sandals filled with sand, slipping them off and running through the surf. The droplets of water sprayed up by his feet glittered like stars, leaving wet marks on his clothes, but he was too happy to care. Salazar raced alongside him, his hands hurriedly tying his long hair back with a piece of worn string to prevent it from whipping into his face. The run back to Salazar's house felt like they were running on the clouds. Once they reached it, they slowed to a stop and quietened to a whisper, sneaking around the side of the house and climbing through Salazar's open window, dropping quietly into his bedroom. Valerio shrugged off his jacket and dropped it to the floor. The pair sat on the mattress and muffled a laugh as it creaked wearily, protesting the weight of them both. They sat in comfortable silence, neither feeling the need to say a word, simply enjoying one another's company. Valerio eventually turned to look at Salazar.

"I'm sorry I didn't get you anything," he apologized softly, his hand on Salazar's.

"It's okay," the younger boy replied, his voice a whisper, genuinely happy with only Valerio's company. "You're enough for me."

Valerio smiled and leaned in close, pressing his forehead against Salazar's, his eyelashes brushing against his skin, their hot breath ghosting together. 

"Eu te amo," he whispered. "Você ilumina minha vida."

Having learnt enough Portuguese over the past months, Salazar knew exactly what had been said to him.

"Te amo," he said back, opening his eyes. "Besarte es como ver las estrellas."

Their lips met and it was like an explosion of was taking place between them, their pulses quickening as if they were fighting for their lives. The kiss quickly deepened and Valerio's arms slipped around Salazar's waist, pulling their chests flush, neither willing or able to separate. Soon, Valerio was kissing a path down Salazar's throat, his lips tickling his bare skin and leaving damp smudges that tingled in the cool night air. Valerio's lips found Salazar's again as his fingertips slipped under his waistband, pulling it away from his hips. Salazar gasped into the kiss, opening his eyes and meeting Valerio's intense, ardent gaze. It was a magical pause in time.

Then it all went wrong.

The door slammed open and Sebastián was there, seething with drunken rage, entering the room before they could separate. Salazar felt a hand grab the back of his hair and tear him away, throwing him to the floor.

"¿Quién coño es este?" Sebastián roared, pointing at Valerio, who was frozen to the spot in shock. Salazar was so full of terror he couldn't even reply, and Sebastián shook him again, pulling him in close.

"No te lo preguntaré de nuevo," he snarled. "¡Dime la verdad!"

"¡Vete!" Salazar shouted to Valerio, wrenching himself from Sebastián's grip and pushing him to the window. Sebastián bellowed with rage and lunged for them but tripped over Valerio's discarded jacket, giving the boys a few precious seconds to move. Valerio vaulted out the window and landed hard on the stone underneath, gritting his teeth against the pain and pushing himself up. Salazar got halfway out before Sebastián grabbed onto him, tugging him back.

"Não!" Valerio cried, grabbing Salazar's shoulders and stopping him from being dragged back into his room, straining against Sebastián.

"¡Basta!" Sebastián shouted, blood streaming from a broken nose.

Salazar reached desperately into his pocket and grabbed onto his most prized possession: his coin.

"Take this," he gasped, thrusting it into Valerio's hands.

"But-" Valerio began, clutching the coin so tightly its edges cut into his hand, but was interrupted by Salazar pressing his lips to his in one final, desperate kiss. 

"Don't forget me!"

Salazar's parting words echoed in Valerio's head as Sebastián was finally successful in dragging him into the room. He heard the sound of a blow before Sebastián leaned out the window, grabbing him by his collar.

"Nunca vuelvas," he snarled.

"Armando merece mejor que tú," Valerio retorted, spitting vehemently in Sebastián's face. "¡Hijo de puta!"

Then he ran. Sebastián cursed violently behind him but was unable to follow. Valerio sprinted down the beach, a stitch tearing at his side and his breathing ragged with panic, but he didn't stop until he had reached the cove. He fell to his hands and knees in the sand, sobbing so hard he could barely breathe. He stayed like that for the longest time until he physically couldn't cry any more. He collapsed onto his side, wiping his eyes with a shaking hand. He opened his fist and gazed at the coin. Red around the edges from the slice in his palm, it still shone a blazing gold in the moonlight. The skull on the front sneered, its empty eyes glinting up at him.

"Why?" Valerio breathed, turning it over and over in his hand. It was his only keepsake from Salazar, and so he vowed to keep it forever.

Back at his house, Salazar was backed into a corner, bleeding heavily from a deep cut to his cheek. Sebastián stood over him brandishing a knife, ignoring Maite's tearful pleading.

"Me das asco," Sebastián spat, blood staining his shirtfront as it continued to drip from his chin.

"Pero-" Salazar tried, stopping when Sebastián jabbed the knife towards him. Maite screamed with horror.

"¡No!" Sebastián shouted. "Tienes que casarte con una mujer. Este año."

Salazar clasped his hands together and looked at the floor, unable to believe he what he was hearing. He couldn't imagine what it would be like, being forced to marry somebody he could never love. Bitter tears filled his eyes.

"Tú eres un maldito puto," Sebastián continued. "En la mañana, te inscribiré en la marina."

Salazar looked up then, even more shocked by what he was hearing. He shook his head but Sebastián's mind was already set, countering Salazar's protests with a sneer and a firm nod.

"Lo que hiciste... Has pecado," he said harshly. "Piénsalo."

And with that, he left the room, leaving Maite crying quietly and Salazar still in the corner, too shocked to react. He felt sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eu te amo. Você ilumina minha vida.  
> = I love you. You light up my life.
> 
> Te amo. Besarte es como ver las estrellas.  
> = I love you. Kissing you is like seeing the stars.
> 
> ¿Quién coño es este?  
> = Who the fuck is this?
> 
> No te lo preguntaré de nuevo. ¡Dime la verdad!  
> = I won't ask you again. Tell me the truth!
> 
> ¡Vete!  
> = Get out!
> 
> Não!  
> = No!
> 
> ¡Basta!  
> = Stop!
> 
> Nunca vuelvas  
> = Never come back
> 
> Armando merece mejor que tú. ¡Hijo de puta!  
> = Armando deserves better than you. Son of a bitch!
> 
> Me das asco  
> = You disgust me
> 
> Pero-  
> = But-
> 
> ¡No! Tienes que casarte con una mujer. Este año.  
> = No! You have to marry a woman. This year.
> 
> Tú eres un maldito puto. En la mañana, te inscribiré en la marina.  
> = You're a fucking whore. In the morning, I'm enrolling you in the navy.
> 
> Lo que hiciste... Has pecado. Piénsalo.  
> = What you did... You have sinned. Think about it.


	5. Dejar Huella Quería

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations for the Spanish at the end.

Shortly before dawn, Salazar felt himself being shaken awake. He prepared to strike whoever it was, assuming it was Sebastián, but he heard a gentle voice whisper,

"It's me!"

He opened his eyes to see his mother staring down at him. Her eyes were puffy and red, a new bruise starting to darken on her temple, tear streaks marring her freckled cheeks. And yet, with all of the blemishes, she still looked beautiful. Helpless, but beautiful. Then Salazar frowned, confused.

"Mother," he said slowly. "You speak English?"

"Yes, I do," she said, her words thickly accented but unmistakably in English. "I have spent a long time learning from a Portuguese woman in the market."

Salazar's heart thumped in his chest. The constricted feeling returned. He would bet his life that that woman was Valerio's mother.

"But why?" he asked, genuinely curious as to why she would need English, if only to speak to him.

"Because Sebastián does not understand it," Maite explained, a bold smile flickering on her lips for a brief moment. "We can talk and, even if he catches us, he will not know what we are saying. I saw his confusion when you spoke English to the other boy. We can confuse him this way."

Salazar couldn't help grinning. Though his mother had been beaten down by years of marriage to such an evil man, she was as devious as she had always been.

"So?" he prompted. "What did you want to say?"

Maite's face became serious and she gently lifted one of Salazar's hands, kissing his knuckles lightly.

"I love you, my son," she whispered. "I want you to know..." she trailed off, biting her lip, but then her eyes met his, and she seemed to find her confidence. "I love you no matter what. Whether you love women or men. I know we are told it is wrong, but you are my son, and I will always love you. Do not listen to Sebastián. I love you more than I can say."

Salazar felt warmth spread throughout his whole body, racing through his veins and across his synapses, filling him with the sensation of being loved that he had been searching for his whole life. His mother had finally come out of her shell, and his heart raced at her words.

"Gracias, mamá," he whispered, choking up as grateful tears blurred his vision. He sobbed with free abandon as Maite hugged his head to her, rubbing his back and murmuring softly to soothe his pain. The ache in his chest had been nearly impossible to contain, and now he could let it out, he couldn't stop.

When his sobs finally slowed he sat beside his mother on the bed, his head on her shoulder. She rubbed calming circles into his back with the pad of her thumb. Weak sunlight filtered through the window as dawn began to break over the far horizon, casting a hushed glow across the room.

"Armando," Maite said softly. He lifted his head and turned to her, quietly curious.

"¿Sí?"

"I think it is time to tell you about your father. Your real father," she added when he frowned. "His name was Joaquín Salazar."

"Joaquín Salazar," Salazar echoed, tasting the name on his tongue, before smiling. "It sounds much better than Sebastián Tiscareño."

"It does indeed," Maite agreed, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "He was a great man. He always fought for what he believed in. He fought for me, too; I remember times where he would fight and lose only to protect me and our honor. He was the epitome of bravery."

Salazar watched as his mother spoke, seeing how her eyes became alight with pride, how she seemed so much more alive when absorbed within her memories. He felt happy seeing her like that, but also felt overwhelming guilt, knowing he could never bring her the same happiness. Maite looked at him and smiled, her eyes bittersweet.

"Te pareces a él," she murmured, her dark eyes taking in her son's appearance. She reached up and gently cupped his face, her hand soft and smooth. Salazar placed his own callused hand over hers and leaned into her palm.

"You have the same eyes," Maite continued. "The same hair."

She took a gentle hold of her son's shoulders and turned him to face away from her. With practiced ease, she slipped the string from his messy hair and ran her fingers through the dark locks, teasing out any knots and tangles before pulling it all back into a neat ponytail.

"That's how he used to wear his hair," she said with a sad smile, remembering the soft kisses on her forehead, the gentle touches on her skin; the deep, calming voice telling her that he loved her every time she woke and every time she went to sleep. Every fiber of her being ached with sadness, missing him every day. She sighed and said,

"How I wish he was still with us."

"How did he die?" Salazar asked, his tone hushed.

Maite opened her mouth to reply but was interrupted when the door came slamming open as it had the night before, Sebastián stomping in, his mood foul and eyes cold.

"¿Qué está pasando aquí?" he demanded.

"Estoy preparándolo para ir contigo para inscribirlo en la marina hoy," Maite replied smoothly.

Sebastián's narrowed eyes flickered suspiciously between his wife and stepson but he didn't question them further, instead marching into the room and hauling Salazar roughly to his feet.

"Viste sencillamente," he instructed. "Te darán un uniforme cuando te hayas registrado. ¿Estas de acuerdo?"

"Sí," Salazar replied with as much contempt as he could muster, staring Sebastián in the eye and daring him to hit him. He felt a little disappointed when Sebastián simply let go, his lip curling in disgust. Salazar noticed that his stepfather's green eyes lingered on his neater-than-usual hair, before glaring into his eyes again.

"Prepárate," he ordered. "Saldremos en diez minutos."

Sebastián left, slamming the door behind him. Salazar turned back to his mother, lips pursed with uncertainty.

"Did you see him looking at my hair?" he asked, unsure if he'd imagined it or not.

"Yes, I did," Maite answered, standing and brushing some dust from his shoulder. "I think he must... like your new hair. It's nice and neat, after all."

Salazar frowned at the floor. He had always wanted to see pride in his stepfather's eyes but not this way. He didn't want Sebastián to like something that belonged to his real father. He looked back up at his mother, seeing how her smile didn't reach her tired eyes, how the bruise was still darkening at her hairline. He pulled her into a tight hug.

"Te amo, madre," he whispered, closing his eyes. Her hair tickled his neck.

"Voy a echarte de menos," she said thickly, struggling to hold back tears. Salazar felt a drop land on his shoulder and he knew she was crying. He held her tighter.

"I'll be back soon," he promised, voice shaking, blinking back tears. He held her away from him and wiped a tear from her cheek.

"¡Date prisa!" Sebastián shouted from the kitchen. Salazar swallowed nervously as Maite left the room, closing the door behind her to allow him to change.

He slipped on a thin white shirt, the collar unbuttoned and wide, pulling the cuffs up to his forearms with unsteady hands. He tugged on dark gray slacks and a pair of scuffed black boots, reaching into his pocket only to remember he had given his coin away. He hoped with all his heart that Valerio wouldn't forget him.

Hand empty with no comforting coin to hold, he clenched his fists and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, tilting his head back. The hot sun caught his throat and sent rays of jagged light across his tanned skin, his shirt almost glowing in the bright daylight.

Salazar thought about his home. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to return to it. Maite was the only reason he had ever cared about even coming back. If he'd left her alone with Sebastián and his rage, who knew what would have happened. He was never willing to find out, and so he had stayed, bitterness and hatred growing inside him like parasites. Once he left for the navy he would finally be free. Although he was only going because he was being forced by Sebastián, Salazar couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement run through him. He had always wanted to go to sea. Now he would finally get his chance.

He walked to the door and opened it, already sensing Sebastian's impatience from the kitchen. He cast one last look around his room, illuminated by the morning light, saturated with memories. A smile curved his lips as he remembered the brief pauses in time he'd enjoyed with Valerio in there. Then he turned and left, closing the door, sending the memories to their graves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Te pareces a él.  
> = You look like him.
> 
> ¿Qué está pasando aquí?  
> = What's happening here?
> 
> Estoy preparándolo para ir contigo para inscribirlo en la marina hoy.  
> = I'm getting him ready to go with you to sign him up for the navy today.
> 
> Viste sencillamente. Te darán un uniforme cuando te hayas registrado.  
> = Dress simply. They will give you a uniform when you have registered.
> 
> Prepárate. Saldremos en diez minutos.  
> = Get ready. We will leave in ten minutes.
> 
> Te amo, madre.  
> = I love you, mother.
> 
> Voy a echarte de menos.  
> = I'm going to miss you.
> 
> ¡Date prisa!  
> = Hurry up!
> 
> If there are any mistakes (whether Spanish or English), please let me know in the comments!


	6. Y Marcharme Entre Aplausos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations for the Spanish at the end.

The journey to the naval base wasn't far. Even so, to Salazar, walking alongside Sebastián, it felt like an age as they walked in stoic silence. The seagulls screamed overhead and the ocean waves lashed the path violently, Salazar forced to weave through the many people making their way to the market. Eventually, the crowds thinned and once more it was only him and his stepfather. The silence between them was even more tense than before.

"No estoy orgulloso de ti," Sebastián said suddenly. Salazar looked away, gritting his teeth to bite back a retort.

"¿Qué más es nuevo?" he muttered resentfully, wincing as Sebastián grabbed his arm and twisted it.

"Nunca has hecho nada merecedor de orgullo," he snapped, his eyes burning. "Quizás algún tiempo en la armada te ayudará con tu conducta."

Salazar wrenched his arm from Sebastián's grasp and clenched his jaw, staring down his stepfather.

"Fuck you," he spat. Sebastián frowned, confusion and anger filling his eyes.

"¿Qué dijiste?" he asked, furious that he couldn't understand what had been said to him - he knew it was something bad, but couldn't tell exactly what. Salazar smirked and walked on. Sebastián angrily started following him.

When they eventually reached the port Salazar felt sick. His satisfaction at winning over Sebastián had worn off and was replaced by nervous nausea, his hands thrust deep in his pockets so as to hide their shaking from Sebastián. The naval base was huge, stretching up into the sky and extending wider than any building Salazar had ever seen before. Men in uniforms marched about, fishermen bustling amongst them, nets being hauled through the water in between the ships. Salazar had never seen such magnificent ships. There weren't many, but he had only ever seen them from a distance before, and now it was like his breath had been stolen away. They were immense creatures; swaying beasts of polished wood and shining paint, rigging like the web of an enormous spider, masts as tall and strong as mountains. The men aboard them were strong and experienced, their faces haggard from the ocean air and sea spray. Their uniforms were beautifully pristine, near-monochromatic in color and decorated with medals glinting in the sunlight.

"Tantos navíos," Salazar breathed. "Son hermosos."

For the first time ever, Sebastián seemed to be in agreement with his stepson. He too couldn't tear his eyes away from the beautiful vessels, their ceaseless creaking like their own secret language, the fluttering of their secured sails like a butterfly trying to break from its cocoon. Both were torn from their thoughts as a man in a spotless uniform approached. By this uniform, he was clearly an officer.

"Buenos días," he said, nodding curtly at Sebastián, then at Salazar. His age was impossible to gauge; his face young but marked with scars and lines from his time at sea, his eyes holding little warmth.

"Mi hijastro," Sebastián said bluntly, placing a hand on Salazar's lower back and pushing him forwards. "Él está aquí para inscribirse a sus servicios."

"¿Qué es tu nombre?" the officer asked sharply, tilting his head at Salazar.

"Armando Salazar," Salazar responded quickly.

The officer looked up and down him with a trained, critical eye. His lip curled when he saw his rumpled clothing but gave a satisfied nod to his ponytail, where not a hair was out of place. Salazar was sick of people only caring about his hair.

"Bienvenido," he said eventually, holding out a hand. Salazar took it and shook it, the officer's palm rough like tanned leather.

"Sígueme," he instructed, pivoting on his heel and walking briskly down the wooden walkway, the silver embellishments on his uniform flashing. Salazar looked at Sebastián one last time, expecting at least a goodbye, but was not particularly surprised when he simply turned and walked away. He scowled at his stepfather's back before hurrying to catch up to the officer. He fell into step beside him, looking around with wonder, following blindly into the building. The shadows swallowed them and the air was cooler indoors.

"Un chaquetón," the officer said abruptly, thrusting a folded pile into Salazar's arms. "Recibirás más cuando subas los rangos." He raised a condescending eyebrow. "Si subas los rangos," he corrected himself with a smirk, pointing at a dim corridor with a stiff finger. "El cuartel."

And with that, he left. Salazar was left in the middle of the building's foyer, a coat in his arms and no idea what to do. He decided to follow the vague instructions the officer gave and walked down the narrow corridor, jumping when his shoulder scraped the side, the harsh noise echoing around him. At the end of the corridor it split into two paths; one going left, one going right. He looked desperately down them both, but neither gave a clue as to where they led, merely extending away and ending with a tightly closed door. Salazar decided to go right - unable to flip his coin to decide for him - and hesitantly knocked on the door, almost dropping his coat as he raised his arm. The door creaked open to reveal a middle-aged man, his face grizzled but good-natured. He smiled benignly down at Salazar.

"Buenos días," Salazar said politely. "Estoy buscando el cuartel."

The man squinted through his glasses, his tongue wetting his cracked lips. His breathing was a tad wheezy, his belt a notch or two looser than the other men Salazar had seen around the ships.

"Hay secciones diferentes en el cuartel," the man rasped. "¿Hablas un idioma que no es español?" Salazar nodded. "¿Que idiomas?"

"Inglés y un poco de portugués," Salazar replied, his chest tightening as he remembered Valerio. He pushed down the sadness. He couldn't let his past hold him back.

"Segunda puerta a la izquierda," the man said airily, motioning vaguely and closing the door. Salazar blinked, a touch unnerved, before following the man's directions and going through the opposite door. Through that door, there was another long corridor, more doors set into either side. Salazar followed the corridor along until he reached the second door on the left and stood before it, taking a deep breath to steady himself. He rapped lightly on the wood.

The door opened and stood there was a young man, mid-laugh, his eyes twinkling with humor. His eyes scanned the new recruit rapidly, his smile broadening as he held out a hand.

"Hello," he said, grinning. Salazar took his hand nervously, looking carefully at the man before him. He was wearing a red tee with his coat over his shoulders, the empty sleeves dangling by his sides. His hair was as curly as Valerio's had been but was a sandy color, shaved in an undercut, his fringe extending low over his brown eyes. His tanned skin was flecked with freckles like kisses from stars. Salazar found himself lost for words.

"Do you speak English?" the young man asked, opening the door wider and motioning for him to enter.

"Yes," Salazar replied after a long pause, stepping awkwardly through the doorway. The room was long, with beds uniformly lined up, bare except for a sheet and a thin pillow. Several of the beds had personal effects scattered across them, young men with a few years on Salazar sitting on them and chatting. They looked up as he walked in.

"Qui es-tu?" one asked loudly, standing up and running a hand through his hair. Salazar recognized the accent and knew the other man was speaking French, but didn't know how to reply.

"Yeah, what is your name?" the first man asked, smiling warmly, unlike the coldness of the French-speaking man.

"My name is Armando Salazar," Salazar replied automatically, too busy staring at the man's freckles.

"I'm Romeo Antúnez," the freckled man said. "I speak both Spanish and English. I like to practice my English. That," he said, turning, pointing at the French-speaking man, "is Francisco. He speaks Spanish and French, and some English."

Francisco made no effort to greet Salazar, instead rolling his eyes and lying back on his bed with a well-thumbed book. Another man got off his bed and shook Salazar's hand warmly. He had a scar running through his eyebrow all the way into his hairline.

"Me llamo Ángel," he introduced himself. "Hablo español y francés. ¿Que idiomas hablas?"

"Sólo español y inglés," Salazar lied. He was sure Romeo could tell he wasn't telling the truth, but thankfully he didn't say anything. 

"Is this everyone?" Salazar tried to change the subject. Looking around, the barracks seemed bare, especially with only the four of them present.

"No, there is one more person, but she is out with Officer Lupe," Romeo said. "Her name is Ofélia."

Salazar raised his eyebrows, surprised. He didn't know women were even allowed to join the same barracks as men.

"I'm surprised they allowed her to join," he said. He had nothing against women in the naval forces, but by the treatment he himself had got upon arriving, he couldn't imagine how a woman would have been treated.

"She's the daughter of one of the captains," Romeo explained. "He wouldn't take no for an answer. She speaks Portuguese and English so she's important to have on a ship."

"Does she stay here often?"

Romeo shook his head. "No, she lives at home. Apparently she has a big family to take care of. I have never met them."

Salazar sighed internally. He should have known he wouldn't be able to simply move on from Valerio. He would have reminders everywhere, especially in Ofélia. However, there was nothing he could do about it, and he wasn't about to make things difficult for the others, so he simply went to a clear bed and sat on it. It creaked ominously. Romeo walked over and sat beside him, taking the coat from him and unfolding it. He shook it, sending a cascade of dust to the floor. Salazar wrinkled his nose in disgust.

"Gotta shake it all out before you put it on," Romeo laughed, "or you'll be sneezing all day."

Salazar smiled and took the coat back. He slipped it on, appreciating how well it fit, the material comfortable and warm over his shirt.

"Here."

Salazar turned at Romeo's single word, looking down as he started to fasten the coat's clasps. The blonde man's fingertips brushed Salazar's chest and he felt a blush creeping up his neck, a flush quickly spreading across his face. He tried to blame it on the heat of the day. He knew he was lying to himself.

"There," Romeo said, satisfied, patting Salazar's shoulder lightly. "You look wonderful."

They both turned as door swung open. In walked a tall, tanned woman, her brown hair tied back in a high, loose ponytail, her dark brown eyes scanning the room and settling on the newest member.

"Does he speak English?" she asked, directing her question to Romeo, who nodded. She looked at Salazar. "Who are you?"

"Armando Salazar," he introduced himself for the third time that day. She pursed her lips before crossing the room and extending her hand out, shaking his warmly.

"It's always good to see new faces," she said, smiling, her smile so distractingly similar to Valerio's that Salazar almost forgot to let go of her hand. He awkwardly dropped it and looked at the floor. Her gaze flickered uncertainly at Romeo, who returned her look with confusion of his own, before she looked back at Salazar again.

"Lunch is in the mess room at midday," she said, glancing out of the window at the position of the sun. "We have a few hours. I'm going to have a nap."

With that, she went and sat on her bed, taking off her coat and folding it nearly. Her arms were lean, her shoulders muscled, her hands strong. She was no weakling amongst these men. Carefully, she placed her folded garment on the small table beside her bed and pulled the bedsheets up to her waist, closing her eyes. Salazar found his gaze lingering on her hair. It was just as curly as Valerio's. He couldn't stop himself from talking to her.

Romeo watched thoughtfully as Salazar rose from the bed silently, as if mesmerized, and walked to Ofélia's bed. For a moment, he thought it might be a newfound crush on Salazar's part - his heart undeniably sinking - but as they began a hushed conversation it became clear that it was anything but. He heard the name 'Valerio' whisper from both of their lips, watching how Salazar's eyes lit up when he spoke of this mystery person, how he seemed the most at ease since he'd arrived. So absorbed was he in watching them, Romeo didn't notice Francisco approaching, and so he started slightly when the French-speaking man was suddenly in front of him. His eyes were narrow and hostile.

"No me gusta él," he said abruptly. "No confío en él."

Romeo could barely stop himself from rolling his eyes. It was so typical of Francisco to be instantly on the defensive around every new recruit, no matter how harmless.

"Armando parece amable," he said lightly, noticing how Francisco's eyes narrowed further.

"Veremos," he said, his tone with a touch of darkness to it. Romeo tried to ignore it.

He had a good feeling about Salazar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No estoy orgulloso de ti.  
> = I'm not proud of you.
> 
> ¿Qué más es nuevo?  
> = What else is new?
> 
> Nunca has hecho nada merecedor de orgullo. Quizás algún tiempo en la armada te ayudará con tu conducta.  
> = You have never done anything worthy of pride. Perhaps some time in the navy will help you with your behavior.
> 
> ¿Qué dijiste?  
> = What did you say?
> 
> Tantos navíos. Son hermosos.  
> = So many ships. They're beautiful.
> 
> Buenos días.  
> = Good day.
> 
> Mi hijastro. Él está aquí para inscribirse a sus servicios.  
> = My stepson. He is here to sign himself up for your services.
> 
> ¿Qué es tu nombre?  
> = What's your name?
> 
> Bienvenido  
> = Welcome
> 
> Sígueme  
> = Follow me
> 
> Un chaquetón  
> = A jacket
> 
> Recibirás más cuando subas los rangos. Si subas los rangos.  
> = You will receive more when you rise up the ranks. If you rise up the ranks.
> 
> El cuartel  
> = The barracks
> 
> Estoy buscando el cuartel.  
> = I'm looking for the barracks.
> 
> Hay secciones diferentes en el cuartel.  
> = There are difference sections in the barracks.
> 
> ¿Hablas un idioma que no es español? ¿Que idiomas?  
> = Do you speak a language that isn't Spanish? What languages?
> 
> Inglés y un poco de portugués.  
> = English and a little Portuguese.
> 
> Segunda puerta a la izquierda.  
> = Second door on the left.
> 
> Qui es-tu?  
> = Who are you?
> 
> Me llamo Ángel. Hablo español y francés. ¿Que idiomas hablas?  
> = My name is Ángel. I speak Spanish and French. What languages do you speak?
> 
> Sólo español y inglés.  
> = Only Spanish and English.
> 
> No me gusta él. No confío en él.  
> = I don't like him. I don't trust him.
> 
> Armando parece amable.  
> = Armando seems nice.
> 
> Veremos  
> = We shall see
> 
> If there are any mistakes (whether Spanish or English), please let me know in the comments!
> 
> Kudos would be greatly appreciated!


	7. Envejecer, Morir, Eran Tan Sólo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay! I have exams right now and will until July. Until then I will be posting less frequently!
> 
> Translations for the Spanish at the end.

Romeo looked up as Salazar approached. The conversation with Ofélia had lasted well over half an hour, and as Salazar returned, his eyes had a new light to them. It was like he'd just received the best news of his life. However happy he was, though, there was one thing Romeo couldn't let slide. He waited until Salazar was sat before saying,

"So. Only Spanish and English?"

Salazar looked at him, startled, his cheeks dusted with red.

"What?"

"You said you could only speak those two," Romeo said. "But I know you," he pointed at Salazar, "were just speaking Portuguese to her." He finished by pointing at Ofélia. "So?"

Salazar looked sheepish. "I didn't think my Portuguese was good enough to say I speak it," he said slowly. "I know some, but nowhere near enough to do... negotiations."

"'Negotiations'?" Romeo repeated, laughing. Salazar noticed how a single dimple creased his cheek when he laughed. It was cute.

Romeo shook his head, still smiling. He patted Salazar's shoulder, missing Francisco's icy glare. Salazar didn't miss it and felt his stomach drop, unsure what he had done to receive a look of such hatred. He looked away, able to feel the glare almost begin to penetrate his back. Then it shifted away and he could breathe easy.

"Anyway," Romeo said, standing up. "We have lunch in two hours. I'm gonna take after Ofélia and have a nap. Feel free to explore," he added, waving in a vague gesture of goodbye as he turned away. Salazar returned it with a smile he knew he couldn't see. His cheeks were still burning.

He looked out the window, wondering how to kill his next two hours. Deciding to spend it getting to know the naval base, he stood and straightened his coat out, leaving the room after waving at Ángel. Once in the corridor, he followed it up until the foyer where he'd received his coat. It was busy with officers and recruits, all following their own schedules that Salazar didn't feel important enough to interrupt. He stayed out of their way and decided to have another look at the ships, slipping out into the light.

As soon as he was outside he squinted, raising a hand to shield his eyes against the blinding sun. The smell of sea air hit his senses and he breathed in deeply, closing his eyes, feeling the sun and breeze brushing his cheeks. The moment was interrupted when a man barged past, almost knocking him him over and muttering an apology. Salazar rubbed his shoulder, grimacing as it began to ache with pain. He didn't let it deter him, however, and so he continued on until he reached the ships. He gazed up at them, as awestruck as before, unable to tear his gaze away. He stared at the smooth brown of their hulls, complete with glinting golden accents and immense figureheads, the fluttering of their white sails and their flags far overhead. The men on the ships looked experienced and intelligent, the muscles of their torsos and arms showing through their coats, their hair all neatly combed back and tied up. Salazar now knew why his hair had been so appreciated - it was how they wore it in the navy. He reached up and lightly touched his ponytail, remembering his mother and feeling a pang of sadness in his heart. He was brought abruptly back to reality, however, when he felt a sharp pain his shoulder and realized someone had grabbed ahold of him. He turned to see Francisco standing beside him, an angry grimace curling his lips and flashing in his pale eyes.

Salazar frowned. "¿Francisco? Qué-"

"Shut up," Francisco said back, interrupting him and tightening his grip. "Listen closely to what I'm about to say."

Salazar, unnerved but genuinely curious, nodded. Francisco tilted his head up, his eyes fixed on Salazar's like some sort of predatory creature.

"Don't mess with Romeo. He is mine. Do you hear me? If you try to take him from me, I will kill you. I swear I will kill you and gut you like a pathetic fish."

A sailor walking past gave them a confused look, unable to understand Francisco's English. Francisco knew what he was doing, speaking English amongst all the Spanish sailors. Salazar swallowed nervously.

"I-" he started. Francisco shushed him harshly.

"No. I don't care if you agree or not," he said, his grip tightening so hard Salazar knew it would leave fingertip-shaped bruises. "If you do anything - anything! - to take him from me, I will slit your throat while you sleep."

And with that, he let go, shaking his hand as if disgusted by merely touching Salazar. He smirked and turned on his heel, walking back into the building and out of sight. Salazar was left there, his heart thumping in his chest, feeling sick, his shoulder aching dully. After listening to Francisco, he knew he wasn't the only one who had lied about not speaking a third language. Francisco's English was perfect.

After that encounter, he no longer felt as excited about where he was. He spent the next couple of hours aimlessly wandering, thinking, until it was noon and time for him to return to the mess hall. He reunited with his barrack-mates and headed over with them, all of them starving and ready to eat. Upon entering the mess hall, Salazar stopped in the doorway, stunned by the noise - the room was packed with men, all wearing the same coat, their hair cut short or tied back. They were ravenously eating the food being ladled out by the cooks, cooking it as fast as they were serving it. The line was immense but at least it seemed to be moving quickly.

Salazar found himself being shunted forwards painfully, the elbow of a much taller man sinking into his side and knocking him further into the room. The man looked down at him with a sneer.

"Muévete, cabrón," he said, the couple of men behind him laughing and shoving past with him. Romeo glared as they passed, waiting until they were gone before turning to Salazar.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern in his eyes. Salazar nodded, feeling a dull ache in his side that was sure to become a bruise, but he didn't want to worry Romeo. He was too hungry to stand around any longer. It was like Romeo had read his mind.

"Come on, let's eat," he suggested and the pair moved to the back of the line, Francisco's eyes following them with burning hatred. He made a move to stand beside them, hoping to maybe push between them, but was thwarted when - seemingly out of nowhere - Ofélia strode in and stood exactly where he had wanted to go. His lip curled in irritation but he took his place behind her silently, biding his time.

When they finally reached the serving station, Salazar was ravenous. He held out his tray and watched as the cook ladled an unidentifiable substance into it - possibly overcooked rice and some kind of stewed meat - the food hitting the middle of the tray with an unappealing splat. He felt Romeo nudge him lightly in his back and moved on, sitting at a mostly-empty table where Ángel and another recruit were already seated. Within a few seconds Romeo slid into the seat beside him.

"Sorry about moving you on," he said, taking up his spoon. "The cooks get angry if someone dithers in the line."

"It's okay," Salazar said, much preferring Romeo's light touch to the other man's jab. His skin tingled rather than ached with Romeo's finger had prodded him.

"This is Esteban," Romeo said, stuffing a spoonful of the mystery meat and rice into his mouth. Esteban leaned across the table, swallowing his food and smiling at Salazar.

"I have been learning English from Romeo," he said excitedly. "If I know it good enough I can teach Ángel!"

Ángel blushed into his food and hurriedly ate some more. Ofélia, who was sitting beside him, smirked knowingly, twirling her fork through her rice. Salazar looked between Ángel and Esteban, frowning, before the metaphorical penny dropped.

"Oh!" he gasped. "You are-"

"Shh!" Romeo shushed him hastily, placing a hand on his shoulder and pulling him in close. "You can't yell about it like that. There are people here who would kill them if they knew."

That's when Salazar realized. The state of heads kept low, hurried eating and relationships on the down-low wasn't like what he'd had; hiding his and Valerio's relationship from Sebastián for fear of merely being shouted at. Here, being outed could mean death. He felt his face burning with embarrassment and shame at nearly shouting out Ángel and Esteban's secret to the whole mess hall. The men who had pushed past him on the way in were only a table away.

Romeo could see Salazar's discomfort. "Hey," he said, his hand moving down Salazar's arm and resting lightly on his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay. It's your first day. You know now."

Salazar smiled nervously. They began to eat again. The table was like their own little world for misfits, the atmosphere comfortable and close-knit. At least, it was until another tray slammed down on Romeo's other side and Francisco took a seat, starting to eat without so much as a word of greeting to the rest of the table. Salazar shrugged it off, not wanting to start anything, but his attention was caught when he saw Romeo tense slightly. Looking down, Salazar saw a pale hand on Romeo's knee. As he watched, it slid up towards his thigh and the fingertips started to push down, putting pressure on the muscle. Looking up, Salazar could see the hairs on Romeo's neck standing up, his shoulders squared with uncomfortable tension. Francisco smirked past him at Salazar, his eyes cold yet full of amusement.

Salazar wanted more than anything to stand and deck Francisco right there, but he couldn't without drawing attention to their table, and he knew he would just end up in the most trouble. If he was kicked out he would never see Romeo again, and he was not about to give Francisco what he wanted. So, grudgingly, he turned back to face his meal. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Francisco's face darken with annoyance at being ignored. Romeo was still tense, his hand frozen by his side. Salazar laced his fingers through his and gave his hand the same reassuringly squeeze Romeo had given him not two minutes ago, their eyes meeting and exchanging a warmth Francisco would never have. The corner of Romeo's mouth quirked up in a smile and, without turning back, he lifted his leg and slammed Francisco's hand between his knee and the table. The hiss of pain and swift withdrawal of his hand was a small victory.

They ignored a dirty look from Francisco and reveled in the small triumph, looks being exchanged between each of them. Ofélia, Esteban and Ángel had missed none of the exchange, and from the pride in their eyes it was clear that they were all united against Francisco.

It was the start of what some would call a crew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Qué = What
> 
> Muévete, cabrón = Move, bitch
> 
> If there are any mistakes (whether Spanish or English), please let me know in the comments!
> 
> Kudos would be greatly appreciated!


	8. Las Dimensiones Del Teatro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the huge delay. I'll be able to post more regularly now!!
> 
> Translations for the Spanish and Portuguese at the end.

The next few weeks passed in a blur of uniforms and duties. Every day was the same - scrubbing the decks of ships that came into port, sewing and patching jackets, cleaning artillery and doing basically every job that didn't require being a part of an actual crew. Though he had never been accustomed to pain, Salazar handled the tasks he and his fellow recruits were given efficiently and without complaint. His fingertips had been pricked countless times - though he was particularly proficient at sewing, there were always accidents - his palms callused and raw from all the scrubbing. Not to mention he was dotted with bruises from all the subtle kicks and digs from Francisco. The smirks on the other man's lips were always infuriating but Salazar never rose to the challenge. Seeing Romeo smiling was enough to quell the anger he felt at Francisco's sneers. They were a crew now, close-knit and inseparable, and Salazar had even almost forgotten about Valerio. Not quite, though. He felt a pang of sadness every time he looked at Ofélia's curly hair and twinkling brown eyes. Romeo had noticed this but never asked, knowing full well there were some things that could never be told.

One day, a particularly hot one at that, all of the recruits were lazing around in their barracks, lying on their narrow beds and complaining about the heat. Ofélia was sluggishly fanning herself with her hand.

"Está quente," she sighed, turning over and pressing her face into her pillow.

"Puedes decirlo otra vez," Salazar breathed in response, the sheen of sweat on his brow dripping into his hairline and making him grimace. He wiped a hand across his temple and exhaled slowly. Though they were all lying in the shade, the air in the room was heavy and thick with humidity.

That was when an officer burst in and shouted a few fast, abrupt sentences, before slamming back out of the room. Salazar, in his sluggish stupor, looked up blearily, having not understood a word.

"What did he say?" he asked Romeo.

"He said," Romeo started, his eyes lighting up with excitement, "that we are to go on a ship tomorrow!"

"We always go on ships," Salazar said, confused. "We clean them every day."

"To sail!"

Salazar sat bolt upright, the heat of the day forgotten. He felt a rush of excitement run from head to toe - he had always wanted to sail on a ship. Whether it was a pirate or naval ship, he had never cared; it was only fate that led him to the latter. Even though he was to be a part of the navy he still held nothing against pirates; rather, he felt a sort of respectful awe when he heard whispered tales of looting and pillaging. His heart was racing as the prospect of being aboard one of the magnificent vessels for longer than a day.

"Why suddenly now?" he asked Romeo, hoping it was not going to be a one-off trip.

"He said the captain wants a reliable set of multilingual recruits to sail with his crew and help trade with the people of other countries," Romeo answered instantly, practically glowing with exhilaration. "That means we'll do more than cleaning!"

Salazar couldn't believe it. He hadn't even thought about traveling across the world yet, and now it was happening. A glance around the barracks told him that everyone else was just as excited as he was, save for one - Francisco. Though he seemed undeniably thrilled at the prospect of leaving the stuffy quarters to sail in the open air, he was glaring staunchly at Salazar, his mouth set in a firm line. Salazar looked away, refusing to let one person ruin his good mood. He flashed a big smile at Romeo, who grinned back, his freckles shining over his flushed cheeks. Francisco glowered.

The next morning, the recruits were bundled out of their room at daybreak. They wore their coats with pride, the material scrubbed until it was blindingly white, trimmed with shining black; their shoes shined and hair neat. Romeo had had a haircut, making his undercut even more severe, but the fringe was untouched. It was getting quite long now, hanging over his forehead. Ángel and Esteban wore their hair in tight ponytails, as did Salazar and Ofélia. Francisco's head had been shaved and somehow he looked even more gaunt, his sharp jaw and pale eyes boring into Salazar everywhere he turned. But today, nothing could bring Salazar back down to the ground. He was so ecstatic he barely registered the customary jostles and jabs from older officers and Francisco. He focused instead on the beaming smiles and thriving light in his fellow recruits' eyes, Romeo in particular, who had barely stopped smiling since the news the previous evening.

Salazar didn't know if he imagined it or not, but as they filed onto the dock and lined up side by side, he was sure he felt Romeo's hand slip briefly into his own and give it a squeeze. However, the moment was brief, and he was forced to push the thought away and focus on what the officers were saying. One man, his coat adorned with gleaming medals, an extravagant hat atop his head, stepped out in front of the recruits.

"Todos ustedes están aquí para seguir nuestras órdenes," he shouted. "Todos ustedes están aquí para servir a tu patria. Cada día," he added, leaning in close to eye Ángel with suspicion. "¿Comprende?"

"Si, señor," Ángel said immediately. The man straightened his back with a satisfied nod.

"Soy el capitán de esta navío," he announced, motioning towards the huge vessel suspended in the water behind him. "Ella es La María."

Salazar looked up at The Mary with wonder - he had never seen this ship in the dock before. At the prow there was a large, proud carving of a woman, her hands clutching a spear tightly, the carving of her long hair so lifelike Salazar almost expected it to move in the wind. Her eyes, however, were empty. She stared out to the sea with blind eyes.

Another officer stepped forwards.

"Por supuesto, esperamos ciertas cosas de ustedes," he said loudly. "Su uniforme debe estar prístino en todo momento. También, su pelo debe estar atado a su frente y sin rozar su cuello."

As the officer droned on, Salazar found himself zoning out. His eyes drifted left and he focused on Romeo, who was listening to the officer with rapt attention. In the weak dawn light, his pale eyes were tinted a glimmering yellow, his fringe casting misshapen shadows across his freckled skin. He was listening with a faint smile on his lips, his shoulders squared with excitement and his hands curled into fists around the hem of his jacket. In that instant, Salazar forgot all about Valerio. Now Romeo was the one who made his heart thump and his pulse race. He felt a hot flush creep up his back and spread across his cheeks in a light blush. A suspicious look from a silent officer nearby told Salazar that his face was definitely an obvious shade of red, but he didn't care. He was in love.

He snapped back to attention when the officer stepped back in line, his arm going to his forehead in a curt salute. Automatically, all the recruits followed suit, before filing aboard the ship.

Salazar looked around, his heart beating so fast he was sure it was going to burst. The ship seemed more beautiful than any of the others he had been on to clean before. The mast stretched high into the sky, an impressive flag fluttering far overhead, and the rigging creaked and groaned as the ship swayed. Even Francisco was struck silent; his ever-present frown fading away to reveal genuine childlike wonder. Ángel's hand twitched as he felt the overwhelming desire to grab Esteban's, but there were several officers around, watching the recruits sharply to make sure they were thankful for the opportunity they were receiving. And, in truth, they were.

Then a piercing whistle split the air and the recruits snapped to attention. The captain of the ship strode onto the deck, his leather boots creaking as they thumped on the wooden deck, his coat swishing around his ankles. Salazar drew in a nervous breath as he felt the impressive magnitude of the man surround him, the captain's piercing eyes boring into each ad every recruit. He looked over them before nodding and stepping aside, holding out an arm.

One by one, the recruits walked past the captain, shaking his hand and disappearing below deck. Salazar reached the important man and looked him in the eye with as much confidence as he could muster, shaking his callused hand firmly before turning and walking away. He swore he saw a glimmer of pride in the captain's eyes. Once he was below deck he followed Ángel to the recruits' quarters, looking around at the narrow bunks and portholes lining the walls.

"This is amazing," Romeo breathed beside him. "I can't believe we're really here, huh?"

Salazar shook his head, a wide smile forming on his face. Everyone was finally ready to take to the waves and face other cultures, countries and people. It was the start of what Salazar knew would be the best time of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Está quente = It's hot
> 
> Puedes decirlo otra vez = You can say that again
> 
> Todos ustedes están aquí para seguir nuestras órdenes.  
> = All of you are here to follow our orders.
> 
> Todos ustedes están aquí para servir a tu patria. Cada día.  
> = All of you are here to serve your country. Every day.
> 
> ¿Comprende? = Understand?
> 
> Si, señor = Yes, sir
> 
> Soy el capitán de esta navío.  
> = I am the captain of this ship.
> 
> Ella es La María. = She is The Mary.
> 
> Por supuesto, esperamos ciertas cosas de ustedes.  
> = Of course, we expect certain things of you.
> 
> Su uniforme debe estar prístino en todo momento.  
> = Your uniform should be pristine all the time.
> 
> También, su pelo debe estar atado a su frente y sin rozar su cuello.  
> = Also, your hair should be off your forehead and not touching your collar.


End file.
